Progress
by RosesFromPluto
Summary: Makimachi Misao's carefree life is shattered when she witnesses a disturbing murder. She is now under the protecton of the mysterious Shinsengumi, and deeper into the affair than she ever wanted to be. AM FOREVER! Updated!
1. Chapter 1

**Shadow's Assassin: To all of you who have read my InuYasha fic, I FULLY intend to finish it. I'm going to re-read it, clean it up a bit, then re-post it. Maybe it won't happen too soon though… Anyway, I have wanted to write an Aoshi/Misao story for a while now, but haven't had any ideas worth pursuing. Hell, I don't even know if _this one's worth anything! But I'll try, I promise. _**

**Disclaimer: Ever notice how stupid these things are? Do any of you seriously believe I own Rurouni K? I didn't think so. **

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**            "I'm sorry, Makimachi-dono, but the fact of the matter is that they're after you now, and they'll stop at nothing to see you dead, _de gozaru."_**

            "CAN'T YOU GUYS TRY A _LITTLE HARDER?!" 'Makimachi-dono' exploded. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE _BEST _POLICE FORCE IN ALL OF JAPAN!!" _

            "Ororo? This one's not even _part of the police force, __de gozaru."_

            "THEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

            "Oro? Makimachi-dono, please keep your voice down. This one sees no reason for shouting, _de gozaru."_

"YOU STILL HAVEN'T ANSWERED MY QUESTION!"

            "It doesn't matter, that it does not. Ah, look – we're here." 

            Makimachi Misao fumed silently, cursing the cruel trick of fate that brought her, a 19 year-old cram school student, to this place. Somebody up in the heavens was probably amusing himself with her life. Typical. She hardly noticed the thick wooden doors they passed through. 

            "Good evening, Tokio-san!" Her red-haired guide greeted the good-looking woman at the desk. "Is the Captain here?"

"Go right in, Himura-san. He's been expecting you. Have a nice day!" she said with a smile. 

The first thing Misao was aware of was the smell of smoke, curling around her nose and making her choke. When her senses cleared, she heard a cold, deep voice addressing her guide. 

"Thank you, Himura. I trust you will be back? Battousai will be of great use to us." Ash fell from the cigarette butt. 

"This one doesn't know, _de gozaru. If it really is __that important…"_

"It is." 

"Battousai?" Misao, who had until now been attempting (not so discreetly) to get a better look at the man's face, half of which was hidden in shadow, piped up suddenly. "Isn't he that famous ex-officer whose skills were so amazing he only handled the most dangerous cases?"

Himura smiled softly, a strange look lighting his startling amethyst eyes. "That's true," he said quietly. 

"You are Makimachi-san," the cold voice said matter-of-factly. "You look like a weasel."

Misao sputtered, so angry she forgot every insult that usually springs to mind. 

"Now, Saitou-san, there's no need for that," Himura intervened, laughing nervously. 

Saitou took another long drag on his cigarette. 

"What's with that, you jerk? Don't you know smoking gives you cancer?"

"I'd have to say the idea of any cancer cells surviving for long in my body is laughable."

"Hmmph. Anyway, nobody does that anymore. What are you, some kind of throwback from the 20th Century?"

"19th," Saitou muttered inaudibly under his breath. 

"What was that?!" Misao challenged. Understandably, she assumed he was insulting her again.

"_Please, _Saitou-san, Makimachi-dono, there's no need for that," Himura said again. "Oh! This one forgot to properly introduce you! Saitou-san, this is Makimachi-dono; Makimachi-dono, this is Saitou-san."

Neither paid any attention. Misao continued to shout; Saitou continued to smoke. That is, until the noise carried to the desk outside the office. 

Tokio poked her head in, eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her stylish glasses. "Hajime, are you terrorizing your guests again?!" the tiny woman screeched. "And _WHAT have I told you about smoking indoors?! There __is such a thing as second-hand smoke, as I've told you countless times before. I swear, he'll be the death of me," Tokio winked to Misao on her way out. The entire tirade lasted under three seconds. _

Misao gulped slightly – she didn't know a woman with such a sweet face was capable of shouting like that. It was downright freaky. 

"Perhaps we should get down to business," Himura offered. "It's getting late; all the other officers are home already, that they are."  

"Hm, I suppose you are right, Himura." Saitou pulled a folder from a filing cabinet and flicked through the contents. "Makimachi Misao – 19 years old, 4'10" in height, cram school student in Tokyo, works part time as a journalist. I believe we've covered the basics?"

Misao muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'stalker.'

Saitou ignored her and continued. "Makimachi Misao, on the 8th of September, yesterday, you filed a report concerning the witness of a murder by a man of tall stature, completely wrapped in… toilet paper?" He asked mockingly.

             Misao flushed and hurried to defend herself. "It was _dark_! I couldn't see very well! And besides, they said to record my first impressions – "

            Saitou cut her off in a businesslike voice devoid of any previous mocking tone. "It doesn't matter. Tell me exactly what happened, start to finish." His tone left no room for argument or jest. 

            "On September 8th, I was staying after class…" 

            _Makimachi Misao hurriedly threw her textbooks and notebooks into her bag, checking her watch incredulously. How had it gotten so late? She had stayed after class to discus her paper with the teacher, a woman she knew from creative writing seminars she attended during the summer. The teacher was full of praise and helpful tips for her work, and Misao couldn't have been more delighted. She was so full of enthusiasm, in fact, that she stayed to work on it even after the teacher left for home. By the time she had run out of ideas and checked the clock, it was well past midnight. _

_            Her normally light footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as they rang through the deserted hallways. She rushed out the doors with barely a nod to the night watchman, who nonetheless smiled at her in return. She slowed to a walk when she reached the sidewalk, conscious of the fact that a lone person tearing through city streets at night was bound to attract attention. _

_            The golden pools of light under the streetlamps threw into sharp awareness the fact that there were no other people on the streets. Misao glanced around nervously. Surely all the bars weren't closed yet? Why wasn't anybody out? _

_            Two people passed her, walking hurriedly – a young man and a woman. Misao let out a long breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and walked on. _

_            She was nearing her apartment when she heard muffled sounds coming from a dark alleyway across the street. She glanced over her shoulder uncertainly. There was no one. _

_            Her indecision lasted only a moment. She broke into a jog and was across the street in a few seconds.  _

            "That was either very brave or very_ foolish, most likely the latter," Saitou interjected. _

            Misao glared at him and continued with her story. "_Anyway, _after I got across the street…"

_Misao slipped into the shadows, held her breath and watched with horrified eyes at the scene that unfolded.  _

_A tall, imposing man, completely wrapped in what Misao first thought of as 'toilet paper' advanced upon another, cringing form. No words were exchanged. Without warning, a gleam of metal flashed in the night. A head rolled in the street. _

_Misao didn't scream. She stood rooted to her hiding spot, unable to register what she just saw. _

_The wrapped man straightened and slowly turned in her direction. Misao felt her heartbeat throb in her ears. She was sure he could hear it; she couldn't move. _

_He was drawing nearer, inexorably closer. His stance appeared lazy – as if he was sure there was nothing to be worried about. "I have to kill you too now." His voice was gravelly and deep. _

_Something in Misao's frozen consciousness rebelled. I will NOT die! _It screamed at her. Without pausing to think she stood and looked him right in the eyes. Then she turned and fled. Or at least she tried to. The end of her long braid caught on a sharp edge of something as she turned to go. He stood watching her, smirking as she struggled. Finally she got free, though not without wrenching a few hairs from her braid. He realized then that she was going to get away, because he suddenly lunged at her. __

_Years of track and field in middle school and high school served her well now. Misao didn't know how long she ran – it had to be over fifteen minutes. Soon the sounds of his heavy footfalls faded behind her. Misao kept running, ran until she reached her apartment. _

            "When I got to my apartment I called the Tokyo Police Station. They came to pick me up, and I stayed the night at the station, even though they didn't tell me anything. In the morning, they told me to go to the Kyoto Force, when I got there, they told me to come to this building, and here I am now."

            Neither Himura nor Saitou said anything for a little while after she finished her narrative. Saitou's cigarette, (which he still hadn't put out) emitted a thin stream of smoke. Himura's wide, innocent violet eyes were narrower, and looked troubled. 

            Saitou's cigarette dropped its last bit of ash and went out. "You see, Himura?" Saitou challenged, obviously resuming some prior argument. 

            "You were right, Saitou-san – it is true…"

            Saitou smirked and leaned back in his chair. "Then do you see the importance of Battousai's skills?"

            Himura looked defeated. "I do." It sounded like a death knell. 

            Misao's head swiveled from speaker to speaker, her bright, inquisitive eyes trying to make sense of the situation. Why and how was Himura connected to the (in)famous Battousai? Why did he look like he'd been delivered a death sentence? What did any of this have to do with her?

            "Absolutely nothing," Saitou said, startling her out of her train of thought.   

            Misao jumped. So now the cold bastard was able to read minds, too? 

            Saitou looked slightly miffed. Who knows, maybe he can read minds…

            Himura appeared not to notice her. "_Ano… Saitou-san, you know how I feel about Battousai…"_

            "Himura, I fail to see why that affects this matter. You know what you have to do. We have discussed this before. Now may we return to the situation at hand?"

            "…" Himura appeared deep in thought. Misao looked at him, concerned. He seemed like such a nice guy. She wondered what was bothering him. For once, though, she kept her thoughts to herself. Saitou looked at her impatiently. 

            Misao jumped at the knock at the door, but neither Saitou nor Himura appeared surprised when Tokio stepped into the room. 

            "Hajime, I'm going home for the night. Would that be alright with you?"

            He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd already gone. Yes, that will be fine."

            They didn't resume the conversation until the door was firmly shut. 

            "Makimachi-dono, I thought so before, but now I'm sure – you're in danger. They know who you are, and they are going to try to kill you," Himura said heavily. 

            "You keep saying that!" Misao exploded. "But I don't see how! It was dark; he couldn't have gotten a good look at my face! And even if he had, there are plenty of people in this city that look like me!"

            "It is not your face," Saitou said. "But those few hairs you left when your braid was caught, as any reasonably intelligent person could have told you."

            Misao glowered. It was true. She just hadn't been thinking. DNA testing, of course. But… wait…  

            Misao surprised them both with her next question. "Who are we dealing with!? Not just anybody has access to that kind of technology!"

            "You have a quick mind," Himura complimented her. "Not many people would think to ask that."

            "So… he's not just some street thug…" 

            "Obviously not, _ahou." _

            "Do you think you could stop INSULTING ME and tell me who wants me dead?!"  

            "_Ano… I think we should explain to Makimachi-dono her problem now," Himura interrupted politely, addressing the Police Chief. _

            "Very well, Himura. Makimachi-san, the person whom we are 'dealing with' as you so quaintly put it, is a man named Shishio Makoto. He originally worked for the Isshin Shishi division of the Police, but eventually the Upper Management grew fearful of him. They knew very well that the only reason he worked for them was because it was the best idea at the time. If something better was to come along, he could be turned against them in an instant – and his skills were not to be taken lightly, even by the legendary Battousai here."

            'Here?' Misao wondered, but pushed the thought away. "So… what happened?"

            "They tried to eliminate him," said Saitou, "attacked him from behind. They drenched his body in oil and threw him into a flaming furnace, and left him for dead."

            "How barbaric!" Misao exclaimed. "Why didn't they just execute him properly and have it over with?"

            "No one knows," Himura answered. "Perhaps they thought a painful death would be just retribution for the trouble he caused when they were trying to apprehend him." He closed his eyes and shook his head, leaving no doubt as to his position regarding the matter.

            "They were fools," said Saitou, "and we are paying for it now. We first got hint that he may not have died when mysterious murders began to crop up in high places – all the people who died had something to do with his 'execution.'"

            Misao let the information sink in. "…But why does he care so much about me? I mean, if he's already killed so many people that you know about, then why does this little one matter?"

            "Because," Himura said, "no one has witnessed any of these. They were done with such careful precision that it would have made it impossible to convict him even if we did manage to capture him."

            Saitou snorted derisively, showing his opinion on the legal justice system. "_Aku Soku Zan," he muttered._

            Himura ignored him. "So you see, Makimachi-san, you will become very important if, no, when we apprehend Shishio Makoto."

            "Well, can't you do that… DNA testing? If he found out who I was because of my hair, then couldn't we do the same thing?" Misao ventured. She didn't want to contradict an experienced police officer, but she _did know some modern technology stuff. "I mean, they're always telling us on the news to be careful with our traces of DNA, because anyone can use it against us…"_

             "So it appears the weasel _does have a head on her shoulders," Saitou smirked. "Yes, in a normal situation we would use the DNA testing. However, this is not a normal situation. Shishio Makoto is by no means a normal man. As we explained before, his entire body was burned to a crisp. No traces of his DNA material remain anywhere that we might find them. He has no fingerprints."_

            "Oh…" 'I suppose that makes sense.' 

            "Therefore you remain our only source of solid evidence against the man, meaning he will inevitably hunt you out."

            Misao's pretty ocean blue eyes widened as this piece of information finally managed to sink in. "You're gonna protect me, right? I mean, I can't stay here! I have school, a job, - a life!!" 

            Saito continued to smoke coolly. "We are understaffed as it is, Makimachi-san."

            Misao thought her eyes would bug out of her head. "WHAT?! I THOUGHT YOU SAID I WAS _IMPORTANT, YOU BASTARD!!!" she screamed at the uncaring police officer. _

            "That is your tough luck, _itachi." _

            "_Sessha believes Saito-san is just being mean again, _de gozaru," _Himura interjected with a soft smile. "Of course we will protect you, Makimachi-dono."_

            Saito rolled his eyes. 

            "That is why you were sent to this building instead of the regular police station." Himura was serious now, no more _de gozaru's_ at the end of his speech. 

            "Do you know what this place is, _itachi_?" Saito asked in his low growling voice. 

            "Eh…." 

            "I didn't think so, _ahou. _This is a laboratory, one of the most sophisticated in the world. It is government funded, government run. It was built to identify DNA to help in the solving of crimes, but over the years its function has evolved."

            "AREN'T YOU GONNA TELL ME WHAT IT IS?!" Misao screeched, her temper still frayed from Saito's infuriating… self…

            "No." 

            "YYYYYYYAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

            "We will show you." 

            Himura to the rescue, again. The man had the patience of a god. 

            Misao blinked. "Really? That's great, Himura! Let's go!" She burst out of the room and down the narrow corridor.

            "_Oro? Misao-dono, you're going the wrong way, _de gozaru." __

            "YYYYYYAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!" 

            "Misao-dono really does have a lot of energy, doesn't she, Saito-san?"

            "…"

            "Weasel girl, you have heard of the persocom program?" 

            "Yeah, everyone has… why?" she demanded.

            "You are aware that persocoms are machines, and therefore do not feel emotions?"

            "Duh!" It was a fact of life, as natural as hearing babies were brought by the stork.

            The heels of their boots clicked rhythmically in the sterile-looking hallway.

            "Why are you telling me all of this?!" she demanded again, louder. 

            "Patience, weasel, is a virtue."

            Misao was mature. Misao was above this. Misao stuck out her tongue at the offending policeman. 

("Now, now," Himura said.")

            "You also realize persocoms have one major liability: their strength lies entirely in their programming. Should that programming fail, the 'com will cease to function. Their 'bodies' are no stronger than those of normal humans. Therefore a persocom's only assets are its superior intelligence and immunity to bribes. This alone is not sufficient to create the ideal soldier or bodyguard. Laboratories across the world began experimenting with persocom models, striving for perfection and fame. Until this one tried a different kind of experiment." 

            Himura's eyes narrowed; his jaw set. Misao could see that whatever they had done in that lab, it upset her cheery red-haired guide. 

            "Himura does not believe it ethical, what we did. However, the government ordered us to continue – whoever possessed an army like this would be unstoppable. The strongest superpower."

            "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Misao screeched, her natural impatience and curiosity getting the better of her.

            "Simple. We re-created humans – genetically enhanced to be virtually unstoppable, physically and mentally. And now, we have eradicated the last trace of emotion in these beings, these human persocoms."

            Himura's stare grew narrower. Misao's eyes widened, and Saitou pushed open the metal-worked door. 

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**S'A: eh… so whatcha think? If any of u are familiar w/ Chobits (nope, don't own it!), I'm sure you recognized the persocom thing. Sorry! Actually, reading Chobits gave me the idea to start this story in the first place. I was originally going to make Aoshi a persocom! O.O But then we started learning about genetic engineering in Bio and watching GATTACA (really great movie) and I thought that would be a better idea.**

**But actually, this is just ****ur**** average sci-fi AU – I haven't got the talent to make it something more. ^^**

**REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

**S's A: Thank you all for your positive responses! ^^ A lot more of you like the persocom idea than I thought! Oh well… It just didn't work out for my plans… and plus the thought of downloading emails on Aoshi just disturbs me… *sweatdrop***

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will. Plots and original ideas are mine, though. **

**Review Responses:**

**Silver Twilight: I thought your name was Black Twilight. -_- Stick with one, why don't cha? *rolls eyes* Anyway, thanks for… stuff… **

**becky: Yeah, if you want to think of it that way. Just imagine a human that works just like a persocom. ^^ And yes, that would be Aoshi. ^^**

**len: ^^ I love Aoshi/Misao! My most favoritest couple in the whole wide world! Unfortunately, I don't think persocoms or Chobits will pop up too often, though… but then again you never know, especially with me. *sweatdrop***

**MiniMidget: Thank you so much! **

**Lebleuphenix: mmmm…. Aoshi in leather……. ^^ eh… I'll get my mind out of the gutter, for now. Thank you! I'll try to keep her in character, but it's so hard! Don't worry, Kenshin'll play a big role! How could I neglect out favorite rurouni? And Saitou, too. Also, I like to parallel things, so look for more of those, as well as a few twists, at least I hope so…**

**dynast: ^______^ Yup, better than a persocom. I was really into Chobits at the time I started writing this, but now I'm kinda fixated on the genetic engineering thing… ^^**

**fallen wings: Thank you! I live off reviews! I hope you like this one as much as the last. My sister (Silver Twilight) informs me the beginning's a little boring… **

**Digital Siren: I love your name! ^^ Hope I can keep your interest. Even I'm not sure what I'm up to… The crazy things that pop into my head and come out as fics… **

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Misao felt an unpleasant prickling sensation creep up her spine. 

            "Does it bother you much, Misao-dono?" Himura's voice asked softly. 

            She swallowed and nodded. 

            "It does me too, _de_ _gozaru yo_."

            "It's not right!" she burst out, shivering slightly. "Humans without emotions…" she added, still disbelieving. "I can't imagine it!" 

            "It's dangerous, that it is," he agreed.

            Misao hung back in the shadows, unwilling to step through that steel door.

            "Are you going to stand there all day?" Saitou suddenly appeared in front of them. 

            Misao violently strode purposefully into the mysterious room. She refused to show weakness before that stupid wolf. Himura followed silently. 

            Behind them, Saitou dropped his cigarette into the tray by the door. 

            Misao's first thought was that she was dead, so blinding was the whiteness of the room. Actually, 'room' did not seem to do the place justice. It was more of a hall, with walled cubicles and highly advanced computers, all with the sterile and impersonal feel of a hospital. Upon closer inspection, she found it all to be constructed of a shiny whitish metal. Reflexively she reached out.

            "Do not touch," Saitou said sharply. 

            She drew back as if burned. 

            Saitou indicated the back of the room, where shadowy figures were moving around behind a smoky glass wall.

            The officer stepped up and laid his hand on a curious disk. After a moment, a green light flashed over the doorway. Saitou passed through. 

            Motioning for Misao to follow, Himura did the same. 

            As she approached the strange contraption, Misao wondered what it did. The answer came when she laid her hand on it and felt a sharp prick. 

            "YOOOOOWWWWWCCCHHHH!!!!!" Her wails reverberated throughout the empty hall. Pouting slightly, she sucked at the tiny drop of crimson blood that formed on the tip of her forefinger and passed under the flashing green light. 

            "Oro? She's very… animated, that she is," Himura laughed nervously. (I just can't describe the way he talks, it's like he's constantly flinching.)

            The foxy young woman in a white labcoat next to him raised an eyebrow. "Animated? I can see that. Oh ho ho ho ho!" 

            Misao edged away from the woman, slightly disturbed by the way she laughed and hung all over Himura. Wait… she looked somehow… familiar. Oh well. 

            Bored and frustrated that no one was paying attention to her (why the hell did they BRING me here if they weren't gonna TALK to me?!) Misao scanned the crowd for more familiar faces. There were none that she could see, except for Saitou, who didn't count because he was an evil bastard. 

            The atmosphere in the room felt more like a party than a serious meeting. The clink of wine glasses filled the air. Hands were shaken; smiles and congratulations exchanged. Long white labcoats and patent leather shoes seemed to be the 'dress code' although Misao spotted a few in the navy officer uniform and yet another few in business suits. In her faded jeans shorts and loose tee shirt, Misao felt rather out of place and insignificant.

            Not being exceptionally shy or one to overanalyze situations, Misao cheerily bounced over to a handsome looking young man in the blue uniform of an officer and began to chat away.

            "Hello! I'm Makimachi Misao! Who are you? I guess you're a police officer, like that stupid Saitou over there, 'cause you've got that uniform on. What are you doing here? What am I doing here? I'm not sure I know, but Saitou-san and Himura-san brought me acting all serious and stuff, and it turns out to be a party! Go figure! It's kinda boring though, you know what I mean? Nobody's doing much of anything. They're all just drinking and talking and stuff." Misao paused to catch her breath. Even her powerful lungs couldn't talk for five minutes straight without breathing. Frayed nerves had caused her to revert to her sixteen –year-old self and babble even more than usual.

            "…areh?" He looked a bit overwhelmed. Then a slow, boyish smile spread over his face. He coughed lightly and turned his head away. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Makimachi-san. I am Okita Soushi. We've heard a lot about you over the past day or so. I think you'll find this isn't much of a party after all, I'm afraid. Once they are through with politics, I am sure you'll be getting all the attention you ever wanted and more." His tone was polite, easy, and sincere, as though he had not a care in the world. He smiled readily. Misao decided she liked Okita Soushi. 

            "Oh, that's good then, I guess. I really just want to get this over with," she muttered.

            "That's understandable."

            "Oh, look. Makimachi-san's talking with Okita-san. Don't they look cute."

            "Hn. I thought you went home, Tokio."

            "I was going to, but then I decided the poor girl would feel a bit lost in all this chaos." 

            "…I wouldn't exactly call this chaos."

            "To a young lady who doesn't know anyone, I'm sure it looks like that."

            He snorted. "She's doing fine. They," he indicated generally the whole room, "should cut the crap and get on with it. I don't know what Hijikata-san is doing with Serizawa-san. It's unprofessional to be arguing in so public a place."

            "And it's unlike you to criticize Hijikata-san," Tokio retorted with a smirk. "What's gotten you in such a bad mood? Could it possibly be the whole project? I know your views."

            "Then you surely must know the answer to your own question."

            "So you don't know anyone here at all?" 

            "Nope, nobody," she replied cheerfully. "Well… I guess you could say I know Saitou-san… and Himura-san… speaking of Himura, where is he? I haven't seen him much since I came in."

            "Oh, Himura-san? I don't think he enjoys parties very much," Okita answered casually. Actually, the man was so antisocial he could give Saitou a run for his money, but that was beside the point. 

            "Oh yeah… that lady that was talking to Himura-san earlier, I think I've seen her before, but I don't know where."

            "Hm… that would be Takani-san, one of the head doctors. If you're going to be involved in the eugenics project, I think you'll be getting to know her a lot better." His blasé smile was back in place, although his head was still turned from her. 

            "Oh. Huh. I don't think I'm going to like her very much," Misao said skeptically.

            The guy chuckled. Really, Misao didn't see what was so funny. But he had a tendency to laugh/cough after every sentence, so she supposed it didn't matter. He sure was odd. Cute, though. 

            "Hello, Makimachi-san, Okita-san," a woman's pleasant voice interrupted their conversation.

            "Oh! Tokio-san! I thought you said you were going home!" Misao exclaimed. 

            "Hello, Tokio-san. I must admit, you surprised me." Exactly what had surprised him, Misao would never know. 

            She waved the comment away cheerfully. "I just saw you two talking and decided to come over and see how you were doing, Makimachi-san."

            "Please, call me Misao!"

            "Only if you call me Tokio."

            "It's a deal then!" the younger girl replied enthusiastically. 

            Tokio smiled. It was getting rare to meet such a nice, innocent young lady. Of course, she wasn't all that old herself. Neither was Hajime, even if he didn't look it.

            "Actually, I also am supposed to tell you to come to the back room, where everyone will be waiting." 

            "Jeez, this place has MORE 'back rooms'?!" 

            "Don't worry; this is the last one you'll have to see for a while. It's the laboratory. Okita-san, you're wanted too, you can't just slip away like I know you're trying to."

            He sighed in mock defeat. "You've found me out," he grinned. 

            She smiled back, but the smile slipped a bit when he coughed again. 

            Walking ahead, Misao caught tones of worry in the older woman's voice as she addressed the younger man. 

            The laboratory wasn't nearly as crowded as the previous room, Misao noted with relief. However, most of the people she'd picked out as important were in attendance. Great. Just great. Please note the sarcasm. 

            She looked down at her less-than-professional attire and grimaced. So much for first impressions. 

            Trailing along, Misao felt an urge to touch all of the expensive looking instruments lined up carefully on the long tables. 

            Saitou shot her a glare that said clearly, 'touch and die.' At the same time, he motioned her to follow him to what she identified as the front of the lab, where several people were sitting in chairs, looking like their excitement was barely contained. Misao felt a brief twinge of disgust, although she wasn't sure why. 

            She took a seat beside four men arranged in a semi circle. Saitou took his position at the podium and began to speak.

            "I have been given the delight of introducing you to the final result of the project we've been working on for the last fifty years," he drawled. "I'm sure many of you, including myself, have not been with the Shinsengumi for that long. Most of those who have are no longer a part of this world. I ask that you take a short moment to consider those who make this research their life's work and have not lived to see their dreams become reality."

            It was kinda funny, Misao thought, to hear Saitou talk about dreams and moments of silence for the dead. In the back, Tokio smirked. 

            "Thank you. Now, as undoubtedly all of you know, fifty years ago…"

            Misao tried to listen. Really she did. But, honestly, who really cared about some genius fifty years ago who first thought they might be able to alter the personality of a human, not just physical appearance? Come on. 

            Misao found herself wondering about the guy who was going to be her bodyguard. She'd deduced that much, although they hadn't told her straight out. So like them. So what do you say to a guy with no emotions? Must be really awkward. Hm… 

            "And so, without further drivel, I introduce you to Shinomori Aoshi, the first human genetically altered to possess no emotions."

            Misao's first thought as he stepped out into full view was: SEXYYYYYYYYYYY!

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Shadow's Assassin: Hm… not one of my best. Hopefully the next one will be better. I'm no good at beginnings. Next time we find out more about Misao's family, and some other… stuff. Ja! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Shadow's Assassin: …………… I had something witty to say here. Really I did. **

**Disclaimer: Shadow's Assassin owns nothing remotely connected to Rurouni Kenshin. **

**Review Responses:**

**Silver Twilight: Thanks. But you could have bothered to go to the actual chapter to review.**

**Shin: ^_________^ Don't we all?**

**Digital Siren: Yeah… this one's a little slow too. But it's shorter, so I guess that's better, ne? I hope to pick up the pace after this one, though. Maybe. Erm… Tokio was talking to Saitou. I musta forgot to put his name. *sweatdrop***

**Adrenaline Shockwave: ^_________^ I really love A/M. I'm glad you like my story. I'll try to keep it interesting! ^^**

**len****: ^^ Yep, I finally updated. *sweatdrop* Hm… *mysterious smile* guess you'll have to read and find out! ^^**

**zhoujen****: *sweatdrop* To tell you the truth… I only have a hazy idea. Heh… heh… At the time I started this I knew… but then I forgot… yes, I am stupid. **

**Lebleuphenix: ^^ Amen to that! I looooooove the Shinsengumi. Almost as much as I love Aoshi. Therefore, I just HAD to put them in my fic. I love Soujiro too, and Okita. (Actually, my first RK fic was a Sou one-shot) I might involve the Ishin Shishi, I might not. I'll have to see how things work out. Tokio's relationship with Misao… as far as Misao knows, Tokio's just some nice lady who works at the desk. **

**Angelic Giggles: ^_______________________^ Thank you so much! I'm glad people are liking my favoritest fic I'm writing! ^^**

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *******

"Um… tea, Aoshi-sama?" Misao asked tentatively. A week. It had been a whole week, and she still wasn't any more comfortable around him than when they first met. 

            His only response was a slight nod. His long black bangs swayed gently across his flat blue eyes. Was it possible he was as uncomfortable around her as she was around him? No, of course not. Stop being silly, Misao.

            "Is green okay? It's all I have," she explained, outwardly as unfazed and chipper as ever. 

            Again, her query was answered only by a nod. She accepted defeat for the time being, but she intended to hear him speak. How could she get an inkling of what he was without hearing his voice? A voice could tell a lot about a person. But, then again, so can silence. 

            As she busied herself making the tea, Misao became aware, not for the first time that week, of the bustling activity going on beneath her feet. 

            She was struck by a brief wave of nostalgia. This was, after all, the setting for all of her fondest childhood memories – The Aoiya, a prosperous restaurant, owned by her family and set in the thriving heart of Kyoto. She never imagined the circumstances that would bring her back here, after all these years…

            Misao didn't remember much of her father, as he died when she was very young. In fact, her most vivid memory of him didn't include him at all. Thoughts of her father always brought to mind the stale smell of the funeral home, accompanied by that of the rich, damp soil. She vaguely recalled the stuffy black dress she was forced to wear, her mother's bowed head, and the pretty flowers laid on the freshly turned earth. Young Misao didn't understand what death meant; she simply understood that daddy was gone. Oddly enough, the thought didn't perturb her in the least. 

            Misao as a child rarely spent much time with her parents – they traveled a lot. Invariably, she was left in the care of her 'grandfather' and the other residents of the Aoiya. She was never lonely, never unwanted, so she never felt the absence of her parents too keenly. Young Misao was a tough one. 

            Lately, however, her mother had been making overtures of friendship; Misao was merely puzzled by this. She held no resentment toward her mother; it was not in her open and honest nature to do so. Her mother was a very busy woman, and Misao had little place in her private life. At least until now. 

            Misao heard (from eavesdropping on several conversations) that her mother quit the job she held with her father only a few years after his death. The girl supposed this had something to do with grief at his passing, although she was unfamiliar with the emotion herself. She then moved to Tokio, leaving Misao, yet again, behind at the Aoiya. After that, Misao heard little news, although they talked on the phone at least once a year. 

            Funny she should try to talk now, after all this time…

            "Makimachi-san."

            Lost in her musings, Misao hardly heard the deep, flat voice. 

            "Makimachi-san." It was slightly more persistent now. 

            She stared glassily into space. 

            "Makimachi-san." This time, the voice, much closer, along with a firm hand on her shoulder, succeeded in snapping her out of her reverie. 

            "AOSHI-SAMAAAA?!" A bit too quickly. (He talked! He talked! HE TALKED!!) 

            "Your water is overboiling."

            (HE TALKED!! HE TALKED!!)

            "Makimachi-san. Your water is overboiling."            

            Finally she turned. Indeed it was. Not only that, but flames from the rather old-fashioned stovetop were beginning to lick away at the teapot and surrounding objects. 

            "AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" She didn't think. She dashed over to the other side of the room and grabbed a jug full of water and hurled its contents in the general direction of the stove. 

            Aoshi had very keen senses and instructions to keep Makimachi-san from whatever harm might befall her. So when he detected a rather odd sound coming from the kitchen, his immediate concern was for her safety. Upon arriving in said room, he determined that she merely forgot to turn off the heat when the water became hot. He called her name. Nothing happened. He tried again. Same result. 

            He laid a hand on her shoulder and called her. She jumped, yelling something along the lines of 'Aoshi-sama!' He did not understand her insistence in addressing him that way.

            "Your water is overboiling." Misao was a reasonably capable girl, to the extent of his knowledge. She had the presence of mind to escape from a killer intending to murder her. She could deal with a problem once it was pointed out to her. Apparently he was wrong.

            "Ah… heh, heh. Sorry?" she offered sheepishly. 

            He was not supposed to make mistakes. But he had miscalculated this time. And that miscalculation resulted in his being drenched with two gallons of icy cold water. So the girl did not think rationally in a tight spot. He silently picked up the fire extinguisher (which had been located not a foot away this entire time) and calmly put out the offending flames. Aoshi replaced the device and coolly walked away. With whatever dignity could possibly be salvaged. 

            "Ah heh heh…" Misao stared at the jug she still held. "Heh… heh…" She rubbed her shoulder where his hand had been. It still burned.

*sweatdrop*

            Omasu blinked at the ripples splashing against the sides of her teacup. The table shook. The chairs rattled. 

            Okon sighed. "And here I thought we'd seen – sorry, heard – the worst when she woke up to find Shinomori-san on her couch."

            Omasu turned her face towards the ceiling. "What do you suppose they're doing up there?" 

            "Nothing we should know about," Okon winked. 

            Omasu sniffed. "Little Misao-chan, all grown up."

            Their speculations were interrupted as Okina, Shiro, and Kuro burst through the door. 

            "What's the matter?" Okon asked casually. 

            "Misao-chan lit her kitchen on fire!"

            "Oh…" the two women sighed simultaneously. 

            "What's wrong with you two?" Shiro asked curiously. 

            "Nothing," they replied with a sweatdrop.

            BANG, BANG! Okina rapped on the small wooden table with a spoon he'd picked up recently. 

            "Attention, Oniwabanshuu!"

            "Checkmate." Tokio looked over her glasses at the young man sitting on the carpeted floor across from her. "Really, Okita-kun – is anything bothering you? I shouldn't be able to beat you three times in a row."

            He shrugged and grinned. The smile faded all too rapidly, however – a fact Tokio was quick to pick up on.

            "Well, just so you know, you can tell me about it if you feel like talking."

            Saitou snorted from his armchair where he was reading the paper. 

            "Something funny, Hajime?" Tokio said acidly. 

            "Those morons from the Department leaded again. It's all over the papers," he said, obviously disgusted.

            "Let me see…" Tokio said, leaning over Saitou's shoulder to read the headlines. "Government official brutally murdered – only witness on the run…"

            "They can't do a thing right, can they?" Okita sighed. 

            "They brought us Misao," Tokio pointed out. 

            "Only because they didn't know what to do with her," Saitou retorted. "They cannot deal with Makoto Shishio."

            "True enough," she conceded. "The Shinsengumi will always be the best at what they do."

            "Strange to have a Makimachi pop up at a time like this," Okita commented from his place on the floor. 

            "They always did have a knack for it," Saitou remarked.

            "It can't be more than a coincidence," said Tokio. "But still… fate has a way of working in funny ways."

            "Do you believe in fate, Tokio-san?" Okita asked mildly. 

            "Sometimes I don't know what to believe anymore."

            "Okina, the Oniwabanshuu was disbanded. I thought we all understood that," Okon said gently. "After Makimachi-sama died…"

            "I vote that we re-band it! Misao-chan needs us!" Okina insisted.

            "Okina." This time it was Omasu's turn to attempt to reason with him. "The police are perfectly capable of handling the situation. They've even been kind enough to assign a bodyguard so Misao-chan will be protected."

            The old man somehow managed to look dignified and serious despite sporting a pink bow at the end of his beard… thingy.

            "I believe the Shinsengumi are involved in this."

            Dead silence settled around the little group. 

            "The Shinsengumi?" Omasu echoed. "I thought they didn't involve themselves in common murder cases."

            "They don't," Shiro said grimly.

            The young woman angrily brushed sweaty bangs out of her face and tugged at the collar of her tight jumpsuit. She set her body in a 'ready' stance and fired her handgun. 

            BANG! BANGBANG! 

            Three bullet holes neatly pierced the wall of the target. Close, but still not bull's-eye. 

            She gritted her teeth in frustration. She had NOT been training furiously the last few years for THESE kinds of crappy results. She raised the gun again, when a soft noise in the hallway startled her. Her raven-colored ponytail whipped around instantly, the gun trained on the entrance. 

            She edged nearer. Hardly daring to breathe, she kicked open the door and gripped the trigger.

            "ORO?! Kaoru-dono?!"

            Okita blinked at the rain running down the glass pane in little rivulets. Strange. He didn't recall rain in tonight's forecast. He glanced at the clock. Late. Time to be heading home. He shifted, wondering how best to broach the topic and actually manage to escape to his own apartment. 

            Tokio, unfortunately, correctly interpreted the motion and beat him to it. "Okita, why don't you stay here tonight? It's late; your apartment's quite a ways from here, ne?" 

            "Tokio-san, I really don't – "

            "It's no problem. You can sleep on the couch, you know it's comfortable. We even have a bunch of your clothes in the closet so you don't have to worry about a change. And besides, it's raining. You don't want to walk all the way in the rain, do you?"

            Damn. Cornered again. "I…guess I could…"

            "Great."

            "Naturally, Misao will know nothing of this," Okon said, retrieving a long unused manila folder from an old fashioned filing cabinet and throwing it on the table. 

            The other members solemnly nodded. Makimachi-sama's last order would be carried out. Misao would know nothing of the dealings of the Oniwabanshuu.

            The loud ring of a telephone shattered the still air.

            "I'll get it," Omasu said, rising from her seat and disappearing out of the room.

            A few minutes later she re-entered, several shades paler. "It was the Tokyo Hospital. Makimachi-sama's in critical condition."*

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**Shadow's Assassin: Sorry for the crappy ending and slow updates. I'm having computer problems, so I can't update too regularly. But I'm trying! Trying my hand at subtlety here, (heh) not working out too well. If you have questions, feel free to ask. I've been having the week from hell, so review and cheer me up. Onegai? **

***That would be Misao's mother, not her father. Her father is dead. **

**P.S. What are the names of Misao's parents?**


	4. Chapter 4

**SA: Due to difficulties of the technological sort, I'm updating this from school. *glances around* I'm probably not allowed. Oh well. I'm skipping the better part of lunch for this, so I hope you're all happy. **

**Disclaimer: Consult previous statements if you really want to know that bad. **

**~ Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry/**

**   You don't know how lovely you are ~ **

**                                                                        ~ Coldplay "The Scientist"**

*** ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ***

            Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

            "Makimachi-san."

            "Hm?" 

**"**Stop that."

"Huh? Oh, hai, Aoshi-sama. I will." 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

"Makimachi-san."

"Hm?"

"Stop that."

"Oh… heh, heh. Was I doing that again?"

"Yes, you were."

Misao sighed. Now she remembered why she hated hospitals. They were so _boring. _And so _white_ and so _clean. _Even the chairs she and Aoshi-sama were sitting in were covered in this white plasticy stuff. Aoshi-sama didn't seem to mind. In fact, nothing seemed really to bother him. Except tapping. 

Misao, however, did not have endless patience. She was _restless, _hence the tapping. She'd been sitting in the waiting room with Aoshi-sama for four hours! That really was a long time for someone such as herself, who, as she regularly insisted, was a young child in a woman's body. No one disputed the matter. 

            She checked the clock. She'd been half-hoping some time would have elapsed. It hadn't. The waiting was just like high school math class. Except in high school math class, her stomach wasn't trying to turn over on itself.

            Her mother was still in critical condition. She hadn't changed at all since Misao arrived. But the doctors said if she remained stable for a little while longer, she would have a good chance of surviving. 

            No, what had Misao more rattled than anything else were the circumstances that led to her mother's hospitalization. _Suicide, _the doctors whispered. The nurses shook their heads as they examined the bandaged wrists and mangled throat. A good thing the maid had been walking by and heard funny noises… 

            Misao's senses prickled. She felt like… someone was… watching her. Slowly, to avoid attention, she raised her head and looked around, only to find herself staring into the icy blue-green eyes of… Aoshi-sama…

            "_Ano_… _gomen_ _nasai_," she muttered and stilled the movement of her fingers. 

            For a second, so fast she might have imagined it, his eyes softened. For a second, she was allowed a brief insight into the person that he _might have been,_ if all the scientists could have kept their technology to themselves. And, for a second, she wondered how thorough their job had been…

            Then abruptly it was gone, that fleeting glimpse of understanding. Misao once again found herself looking into his cold and impassible eyes, partially obscured by his long bangs. 

             But in that instant, she had seen something. And she made a promise to herself: he's got a smile in there somewhere. And I'm gonna find it. 

* ~ *

            Saitou Hajime was not a heavy sleeper. Not a floorboard creaked, not a mouse moved in his territory without his knowing. His fighting instincts simply would not allow it. So, naturally, he was well aware of Okita's light, well-trained steps as the kid padded near-silently off the couch and out into the hall. The front door shut with a faint 'click,' signaling the young officer's retreat. 

            Tokio stirred under his arms, as if attempting to rise. She half-sat up, the hazy light from the streetlamps slipping through the blinds and illuminating her slim form. 

            Saitou watched her lazily through half-closed eyes.

            After a while she sunk back down into his embrace. "And it's still raining, too," she sighed into his chest. 

            "Is the mother hen finally going to let her chick out of the nest?" 

            Tokio could practically see the smirk in his voice. "I am not a hen…" she mumbled. 

            He snorted gently, his special way of laughing.  

            "Oh shut up…" 

* ~ *

            "K-Kenshin?" the young woman, whose name happened to be Kamiya Kaoru, managed to squeak out, her gun still trained on his chest. "What are you doing here?" Words could not express her shock at seeing Himura Kenshin, her tenant (and crush) deep in the bowels of the Shinsengumi building. 

            "Ah, Kaoru-dono, perhaps you should put that away?" 

            "Huh? Ah, yes, of course, Kenshin! How silly of me!" She felt like she was about to die. Here she was, late at night with Kenshin, in the training grounds of the Shinsengumi, holding a gun like it was a child's toy. What would Captain Kondou-sama say now?

            As if on cue, an imposing presence made itself known at Kaoru's back. 

            "Himura-san. I was not aware that you were acquainted with Kamiya-san."

            Kaoru felt like a sheet of ice had been poured down her back. K-Kondou-sama? Here? Now? What god hated her?

            "Ah, yes, Kondou-san. She is my landlady." 

            Oh, Kenshin, I love you! Kaoru thought feverishly. She didn't think she could speak at the moment. Note to self: Get more sleep. 

            "Oh?" Kondou turned an inquisitive eyebrow on Kaoru. 

            "M-my father's business," she managed to squeak out. "When he died, I took over."

            "I see." 

            Kenshin was relieved to see Kaoru-dono had managed to gather her wits nicely. 

            "Well, that will be all. Good evening, Kaoru-san." Kondo bowed formally to the young woman and turned to Kenshin. 

            Kaoru knew a dismissal when she saw one, especially from Kondou-sama. It was said that only Vice-Captain Hijikata was tougher. 

            Still, she hesitated, turning her big blue eyes on Kenshin in a questioning glance. He gave her a small smile and nod in return. 

            That was enough for Kaoru. She bowed quickly to each Kondou-sama and Kenshin before heading off for the elevator.

            As she turned the corner, she heard only one sentence.

            "Himura-san, I am pleased to know that you have agreed to lend your sword to our cause…"

* ~ * (A Little While Later) * ~ *

            "Damn!" Kaoru cursed under her breath, watching the headlights of the last bus retreat down the street. Rain hung heavy in her hair, weighing down her ponytail and giving her the appearance of a drowned water rat. 

            Her training clothes were safe and dry in her duffel bag hanging off one shoulder. She was dressed casually in a tee shirt and jeans, and the goosebumps on her arms were a constant reminder of her decision not to throw a spare jacket in her locker. 

            Kamiya Kaoru checked her watch and cursed. Her apartment was on the other side of town and the last bus had just left her in the proverbial dust. Looks like she was going to have to walk after all. 

            A stray thought caused her to turn back to the entrance of the Shinsengumi base. Where was Kenshin? It had been at least a half an hour since she left him with Kondou-sama. Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? Kaoru didn't know, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Kondou-sama's last sentence had an ominous ring to it she didn't trust. Kenshin's sword… 

            Himura Kenshin was well aware that Kamiya Kaoru would want an explanation of the night's events. It had been an unfortunate turn of events that brought them to the same part of the Shinsengumi building at the same time on the same night. If he didn't know better, it would have sounded suspiciously like fate. 

            Lost in thought, he pushed open the heavy double doors of the front entrance. During the time he spent in the building, it had begun to rain, quite hard. 

            "Kenshin?" 

            "Kaoru-dono? I thought you went home, that I did."

            She laughed sheepishly. "Well, the thing is, I meant to, but the last bus just pulled away."

            He smiled and shrugged out of his jacket. She looked like she was freezing. He draped it around her shoulders. "I have my car. I'll drive you, if you like."

            Kaoru suddenly began to believe in angels. 

            In the car, the silence was heavy. Kenshin patiently braced himself for the in inevitable. Kaoru gathered the courage for her next question:

            "Kenshin, what were you doing in the Shinsengumi building?"

* ~ * 

            Okita shut the door to Saitou's apartment with a tiny 'click.' He knew the cranky cop had heard him, and probably Tokio, also. He waited breathlessly for the answering footsteps. 

            Finally satisfied he was not going to be followed, the young captain crept out onto the rainy city streets. He was drenched almost instantly. Blinking the rainwater from his eyelashes, he felt his feet treading a familiar path. 

            He'd crept out often at night lately, ever since he felt himself begin to fade. And always he ended up at the same place. 

* ~ * (At the Hospital) * ~ *

            "Mmmmm……. Aoshi-sama?" A bleary-eyed and weary Misao yawned. She was stretched along at least two of the waiting room chairs, her neck and knees supported by the armrests, her spine arched uncomfortably as she twisted to look up at him. 

            "Hai, Makimachi-san?" Aoshi intoned, shifting slightly so he faced the girl sprawled over the chair next to him. 

            "_Misao," _she grumbled. 

            His eyebrow quirked slightly. "Aa, Makimachi-san."

            She was beginning to suspect he did it to annoy her. But that would be stupid. "I'm bored," she muttered to no one in particular. An old lady with electric blue hair and eyeshadow behind the desk gave her a funny look. Misao stuck her tongue out. 

            "Makimachi-san, I was under the impression you were older than four."

            She stuck her tongue out at him, too. So what if she was 19? Big deal. "I wanna take a walk. They said Mom should be fine. And I'm bored."

            He shrugged imperceptibly. "I'll follow."

            "Alright!" 

            Her mood swings were truly amazing. 

            Misao skipped lightly over the grounds of the hospital, enjoying the feel of the springy wet grass beneath her feet. Rain dripped off the ends of her hair, and her light jacket was soaked clean through, but the girl could care less. 

            Aoshi-sama was trailing behind, swift and silent and deadly as a wraith. She could barely make out his tall form, wrapped in his favorite trench coat, through the rainy fog, but she suspected he could see her just fine. Some things just weren't fair. 

             Her steps slowed as they carried her between small, erect stones, some tilting, some straight. Most had sprigs of delicate flowers lain at their bases. 

            A graveyard…? Misao wondered as she knelt, heedless of the chilly dampness spreading through her knees, to examine the engraved script on one. 

            It was pretty, she decided, in an eerie and elegant sort of way.  The name, Seta Kana, was unfamiliar to her, but the place had a sweet and sad, nostalgic air to it that squeezed her heart. 

            A long shadow in her peripheral vision caused the girl to jump suddenly, breath caught in her throat. 

            "I'm sorry to have startled you, Makimachi-san." 

            Misao relaxed. "It's no problem, Okita-san." She stood up and dusted herself off, though the motion only served to further smear the grass stains into her jeans. 

            He laid a tiny flower on top of the others. It was sweet and graceful in appearance, and lent an elusive and tantalizing scent to the air. 

            "Someone you knew?" she asked cautiously.

            "Aa," he replied, not looking up. "My mother."

            "I'm sorry," she offered reflexively, not really knowing what else to say.

            "I didn't know her well," he admitted, still staring at the curving letters. 

            Misao, unable to think of an appropriate reply, remained uncharacteristically silent. 

            "What do you suppose it feels like, to be dead?" he asked suddenly. "What is it like to be nothing more than a name on a stone? Do you know yourself…? Forget your life? Stop caring? Or perhaps," his voice dropped to barely more than a whisper, "there is nothing more than oblivion?"

            "A-a better place," she said uncertainly. 

            He waved it away. "That's what they _tell _us. But what if it's not _true? _How can we _know?" _His normally cheerful voice took on a note of desperation that even Misao couldn't miss. 

            Misao shivered. 

            "What do you suppose it's like for someone to know that they are going to die, that every breath they draw brings them inexorably closer to that death? That there is no escape from this destiny? Fate deals a cruel hand."

            "I-I think it's enough to drive any person mad," she said. 

            He laughed bitterly. "Too true..." he muttered. Abruptly, his demeanor changed. "I'm sorry, Makimachi-san! I shouldn't be talking like this with you," he smiled cheerfully. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately…"

            She nodded slightly, too shaken to speak. 

            "Makimachi-san."

            She whirled. "Oh, Aoshi-sama…" His tall form loomed up in the fog behind her, mist swirling around his feet, the light breeze ruffling his long bangs. She was momentarily breathless.

            "We should go back to the hospital," he said, staring into the space behind her. "Good evening, Okita-san," he nodded in the direction of the younger man. 

            "Good evening," he chirped. 

            Misao trotted after Aoshi, glancing every once in a while over her shoulder at the shape of the young captain until the he faded into the haze. 

* ~ *

            At the same time, not far from the graveyard where Okita and Misao were discussing death, a decrepit old building with peeling white paint, looking like it could have survived since before the Third World War, bore witness to an equally strange conversation. 

            "Takeda-san, Shishio-san has been very lenient with you," said a boy with an easygoing smile, resting his hands behind his head in a careless gesture. "I would not have done so."

            The older man, kneeling on the chalky floor, shook visibly. Sweat dripped down his forehead and rolled off his ugly, pointy nose. Everything about the man was thin and pointy, a sharp contrast to the slender, handsome youth before him. 

            "Sixteen months ago, you said you could have Okita-san dead within the year."

            "I-I… His body proved… unusually resistant… to the pathogen…"

            "I didn't ask for excuses, Takeda-san," the boy reprimanded lightly. "And now, you couldn't even properly kill a defenseless woman, much less retrieve the papers we needed," he continued, ticking off the instances on his fingers.

            "I – It will be remedied, sir," Takeda Kanryuu squeaked out. 

            "Good, I'm busy tonight. I would hate to clean up more of your messes," Seta Soujirou smiled, and turned to go. "Oh, and Takeda-san?"

            "Yes?"

            "You know what to do if you screw up." The heavy door creaked shut behind him. 

* ~ *

            Makimachi Mayura died in her sleep. Makimachi Misao, the last living member of an old and prominent family, was shocked. She gripped Aoshi's sleeve until her hands turned white. Her blue-green eyes appeared even larger than normal in her pale face. 

            "They said she would be fine…" Misao whispered. 

            Aoshi stood awkwardly, unable to respond to a basic instinct to comfort the girl, and unable to pull his arm away. 

            "Shinomori," Saitou growled from behind them, "what happened here?"

            Tokio appeared by his side, her elegant features solemn and troubled. 

            "It appears to be a suicide," Aoshi replied indifferently. "Apparently she managed to pull the power on her life unit."

            "Bullshit," the cop said calmly, lighting a cigarette. Tokio's eyes narrowed slightly. It was then Misao noticed that the glasses she had worn at the Shinsengumi building were missing. 

            Aoshi was unruffled. "It is officially a suicide. However, there is no motive. The woman was neither depressed nor suicidal."

            "This stinks of Shishio Makoto," Saitou muttered through the cigarette. Several nurses hurried over to berate him. One glance at his predatory amber eyes stopped them in their tracks. Saitou flicked ash off the end, the same eyes flashing as he caught sight of a slant-eyed doctor with a long pointed nose and thin, sharply angled eyebrows. 

            "Our good friend Takeda Kanryuu," he muttered to Tokio. "Excuse me," drawled to Misao and Aoshi. 

             Tokio's smooth, dark hazel eyes followed him with a sort of satisfaction that puzzled Misao. 

            "One of Shishio Makoto's lesser agents, I'm afraid," she smiled to the duo.

* ~ *

            "I'm gonna call Jiya," Misao grinned faintly as she jogged down the dim hallways of the deserted Shinsengumi building. "I'll tell him we're gonna camp out here tonight, since Saitou says it's safer, 'kay?" 

            Aoshi nodded, striding behind her evenly. 

            Misao sighed as she trotted down the steadily darker corridors. She failed to notice the dark, slippery substance under her feet. 

            Her body connected to the tile with a dull thud. "Owww," she moaned softly, bringing her hand up to touch her smarting face. What she saw there stopped her short. Her hands were covered in sticky, warm, foreign blood. 

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

SA: If the conversation with Okita offended anyone, I'm terribly sorry. Just keep in mind that this is _fiction. _I hope Misao doesn't seem too immature or uncaring. I don't want her to come off like that, but that's just kinda how it turned out… but she will change as the story progresses. 

Review Responses: 

LeeS DeMoN: Here it is… Sorry for the loooooong delay. V_V I guess they don't have set names… guess that means I can be creative. 

len: Yep, yep – lots of secrets. Let's see how long I can keep this up.

RVD: Thank you! I'm happy to see this setting is working. Heh. She sure is. But it'll get worse before it gets better…

tesuka-chan: I think so to. When I first had the idea for this story, I was like, ooooh! Aoshi-sama would be perfect! Hopefully the scene-shifting problem is remedied in this one. *sweatdrop* I'm working on the AxM thing – they are so complicated and hard to write! Of course, part of the problem lies in RK itself – it's so good, I'm having a difficult time preserving the themes and stuff. 

Digital Siren: *sweatdrop* Scene-shifting hopefully is better in this one. That comes from not checking the HTML version to make sure everything was preserved. Excuses? Who, me? Naw!  ^^ Thank you so much! 


	5. Chapter 5

**S'sA: Sorry for the long wait. I've been struggling with depression lately. Nothing major, just stuck in limbo, you know? At least I've got my anime and manga. I don't know what I'd do without that. **

**Disclaimer: Why do I bother with these things, anyway? I don't own RuroKen. **

**Warnings: Aoshi-abuse and violence in this one, people!  I don't condone drinking or drugs. There is implied sex. I urge you not to commit suicide, because I don't condone that either. **

**"I had to find you/**

**tell you I need you/**

**tell you I set you apart/"**

**                                                Coldplay, The Scientist **

Misao's scream brought the tall ninja to her side in an instant. Aoshi instinctively knew the blood covering her hands was not her own, yet he calmly took out a flashlight from the inside of his trenchcoat and checked her for injuries anyway. A slight bruise from where she fell was all.

            He swept the conical beam of yellow light over the walls and floor. Blood was spattered everywhere. It still dripped in some places, giving the place an eerie resemblance to an old-time horror movie.

            Misao lay in a deep puddle of the sticky substance. She shuddered and tried to hunch in on herself, trying to close her eyes to the reality of her situation.

            Aoshi coolly surveyed the mess. He noted the bright crimson splashes, about chest high on the walls, and decided they were probably caused by gunshot wounds. Puddles like the one Misao fell in dotted the tile floor. He narrowed his eyes. There was too much blood, enough to have emptied a person and a half.

            He backtracked their steps, taking care this time to notice the faint marks of a scuffle located there. He frowned ever so slightly. With this much blood, there should be bodies.

            He paused his long strides beside the sobbing heap on the floor. "Makimachi-san. Find a lightswitch."

            "H-h-h-hai, Aoshi-sama." She swallowed, choking back the dry, heaving sobs that racked her body. She pulled herself up by gripping the material of his sleeve. He patiently stood while she clung to his arm, evidently still in shock from the night's events. "I can stand on my own now. Domo arigato, Aoshi-sama," she said.

            He nodded as she released his sleeve. He beamed the light once more down the blood-spattered corridor. Aoshi stepped carefully, sweeping the ray of yellow brightness before him, dispassionately searching for any survivors.

            Misao steeled her nerves as she slid her hand along the slimy wall and closed her eyes and tried to be brave when her fingers brushed a wet patch that she knew was not water.

            Makimachi Misao never considered herself a coward. She never flinched at the sight of blood and gore like the other girls she'd been friends with during her childhood. When they watched old horror movies the other girls would gasp and scream. Not Makimachi Misao, she was too brave and too proud for that.

            She bit back a cry when her finger found the switch and light flooded the passage. Aoshi knelt beside a ragged, still figure in the distance and the walls were flecked with blood and sweat and Misao felt cold horror cascade down her spine like a sheet of ice.

            Numbly she ran to the crouched figure of her bodyguard and the body he silently examined. As she bent over Aoshi's shoulder, Misao noticed the young man's chest rising and falling spasmodically.

            "Aoshi-sama! He's alive!" she cried, nearly in hysterics.

            "Yes," he answered callously.

            "_Can't we do anything?!" _she choked.

            "No. He's lost too much blood," Aoshi replied tonelessly, not even bothering to look at her.

            Misao felt angry tears of frustration gather in the corner of her eyes at his carelessness, his coldness, and her utter inability to help. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled for her cell phone in her purse.

            "No ambulances."

            The sound of her slap against his cheek rang through the hall like a gunshot. He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. And somehow that made it so much worse.

Misao dropped to her knees on the other side of the body, her head bowed and her dark hair shading her expression. Her eyes wandered to the young man's face and a fresh wave of nausea churned in her stomach as she recognized his features. _Okita-san?! _Yes, it surely was; she knew him even through the blood that was pumping sluggishly out of the wounds that rent his body.  

A single droplet of salty fluid escaped her eye and she dialed Tokio's number dazedly. _No ambulances, _she thought sadly. _I know. Shinsengumi dealings are so god-damn secret they can't even call an ambulance when it would save the life of one of their own. Too much publicity. No, Shinsengumi people have Shinsengumi doctors, but I have only one number. _She was drained, defeated. Tokio-san didn't answer her phone so Misao left her message in a dry, cracked voice.

_Please hurry, Tokio-san. I don't know what to do. _Okita-san's hand was lying limp and bloody and pale on the floor by her knee. She took it between her trembling fingers and held it tightly, as if she was his lifeline and last connection to this world.

            He stirred and the painful rhythm of his shallow breathing increased. He coughed wetly and blood bubbled from his lips. Misao and Aoshi could hear the fluid slosh sickeningly in his lungs. He struggled to sit but Misao, inwardly marveling at his strength but knowing the motion could be fatal, placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

            She didn't notice Aoshi's eyes on her; she was so occupied with Okita.

            Takagi Tokio was breathless despite all her training by the time she reached the labyrinth of twisting passages that was the bowels of the Shinsengumi's building. Misao's message ran through her head like a broken record and her heart raced faster than her feet.

She'd already called Hajime, Takani Megumi-san, Kondou-sama, and Hijikata-sama. No one else needed to know, not yet.

She didn't dare stop to catch her breath. Tokio had run all the way from the hospital to the Shinsengumi building, a distance of nearly three miles.

A sick feeling settled in her stomach at the thought of Okita, lying alone and bleeding on the cold floor. She knew in her heart and mind that there was nothing she or anyone else could do. Misao had made that clear enough; Aoshi had said so, and Aoshi was a very capable judge. And Okita wanted to die.

She slowed to a purposeful walk as she approached their corridor, intending to present a dignified front.

            Despite Misao's protests, Okita had managed to sit upright. Aoshi sat immobile, neither helping nor hindering the young captain's efforts. He was unable to speak, but he gestured almost desperately for her to hand him his wakizashi, lying discarded in the darkness a few yards away. She bit her lip and complied. After all, he was a warrior, and didn't they frequently wish to hold their weapons as they died?

            Her expression quickly turned to horror as he stabbed himself swiftly in the left side of the gut and his face contorted with pain. He jerked it across, making a horizontal slit. Before he could complete the movement and the vertical cut, his eyes rose to meet Aoshi's stoic glance and the older ninja nodded imperceptibly.

            Aoshi's kodachi whipped out from beneath his trenchcoat and cleanly decapitated the dying captain. Blood spurted warmly from his severed neck as his body hit the floor for the last time with a light thump. Misao's body bucked involuntarily and bile rose in her throat at the image of his head rolling to a halt a few feet away from her. His eyes were wide and glassy and filmed over in death. Her eyes flew to Aoshi-sama who was calmly wiping the perfect blade of his kodachi on a cloth he had produced from somewhere, most likely from one of the seemingly endless pockets of his trenchcoat.

            Her rage and disgust exploded from her throat in the form of a wordless yell. She struggled to her feet and staggered to where Aoshi was still evenly kneeling, looking as cool and tranquil as ice.

Ice can be broken, right? The first slap left her hand stinging and she could tell it would leave a bruise. The second drew blood from his lip. Then she fisted her hand and struck him again and again and he made no move to stop her.

It was intoxicating, this blind and wild rage she found herself in. She punched him harder. How could he see all this and feel nothing? She mentally screamed. You _can _feel, I've seen it! Say something! Anything! The slim silver rings adorning her fingers were drawing more blood now. Her hands were smeared with it. She kept uncontrollably beating him, uncaring as to whether her blows fell on his broad shoulders or the sides of his head.

He caught her fists between his hands. She struggled violently but he was firm - she was unnaturally strong for her small size and any more blows to his head would give him a concussion.

She kicked him fiercely, the fire of her grief and fury over the night's events fueling her further. He continued to hold her fists as sharp pains landed on his sides and legs. Misao was screaming soundlessly now, and tears mingled with sweat and blood and made salty trails down her cheeks. She hated herself even as the physical action lifted her high beyond earthly torture.

She jerked backwards in an attempt to free her hands from his grasp. When he failed to comply, she leaned down and bit him sharply. He winced and let go. Her fist swung up to catch him underneath his right eye before someone was pulling at her shoulders, tugging her gently, repeating her name, over and over.

Misao felt herself go limp and numb. She allowed herself to lie peacefully in the arms of the person, tears still running freely down her cheeks. She tilted her head back to see the face of her 'rescuer': Tokio-san. She was staring grimly at the scene, taking in all the gory details as she rocked Misao gently.

Misao forced herself to stand.

"Lie back down, Makimachi-san," Tokio commanded her softly. "You'll be sick." _And we don't want you going mad on us again, _she mentally added.

Misao stubbornly shook her head.

"Makimachi-san! Please, the doctor will be here any moment." Tokio again took hold of the younger woman's shoulders and skillfully maneuvered her back down.

"No!" Misao cried hoarsely, driven by an unknown force of the making of her own mind.

Tokio sighed and pressed her fingers deftly on the special point on the back of Misao's neck. She collapsed without a sound.

"Have Takani-san look at those cuts when she gets here. Then take Makimachi-san back to her home and let her rest," Tokio bid Aoshi as she tipped the limp girl into his arms.

"Hai, Tokio-san."

(Earlier, Across the City)

            Takani Megumi woke sweaty and tangled in her sheets with the sweet taste of her dream lingering in her mouth. Heat rushed to her face at the memory, momentarily driving from her mind the ring that was the cause of her awakening. She moistened her fingers lightly with her tongue in contemplation.

            The ring from her cell phone was back again, and this time it seemed to carry a note of urgency that Megumi could not ignore. She untangled herself from the bed sheets and made her way softly to the dresser, unmindful of the chilly night air against her skin.

            It rang again, shattering the stillness of her apartment. "I'm coming," she muttered to herself and held it against her ear. "Moshi-moshi?"

            "Takani-san, it's Tokio. I apologize for calling this early in the morning, but you need to come to headquarters." Tokio sounded breathless, as if she was running.

            _Morning?_She glanced at the clock. "How soon?" she asked. _Do I have time to take a shower…? _

            "As quickly as possible," Tokio answered almost at once. She added, "It's an emergency."

            "Very well, Tokio-san. I will be there as soon as I can."

            "Domo arigato, and goodbye." Tokio hung up with a tiny click, and the empty signal buzzed in Megumi's ear. A thought occurred to her suddenly and she headed out to the living room.

            She felt her way through the darkness to the bundled figure snoring gently on the couch. She shook his shoulder delicately, calling, "Sanosuke, Sanosuke, wake up!"

            A barely conscious moan from the mop of spiky brown hair protruding from the tightly wrapped blanket.

            Louder. "Sagara Sanosuke! Wake up!"

            "What is it, Megitsune?" he mumbled blearily. "It can't be morning yet…"

            She shook her head in exasperation. "No, it's not morning. I got a call from work, and I need to go."

            His eyes lingered briefly on the swell of her breasts, visible over the tight laces of her camisole. "Dressed like that?" he grinned cheekily, already half awake.

            "Baka!" She smacked him and made a mental note to wear her bathrobe next time. "Go back to sleep, tori-atama," she sighed. "I probably won't be here in the morning, so let yourself out."

            "Whatever. 'Night, Megitsune." He closed his eyes and feigned snores.

            She snorted softly. "'Night, rooster-head." She disappeared into her bedroom briefly, then slipped back through the living room (in her lab uniform) on her way out. The door clicked shut behind her as she left.

            Sanosuke sighed and realized he probably wouldn't be able to sleep again that morning. He stumbled into the kitchen, where, if he remembered correctly, there should be a few swallows left in the wine bottle.

(Later)

            "Megumi-san, would you please do he autopsy yourself?" Tokio asked distractedly as she orchestrated the cleanup. Samples and photographs had already been sent to the lab, and all that was left to do was mop up the mess.

            Megumi looked up from cleaning the cuts on Aoshi's face. "Tokio-san," she frowned, "that's hardly my area of expertise…"

            "But you are qualified, neh_?_" interrupted Tokio, although she knew it was rude.

            Megumi looked down. "Hai," she said, glancing at the covered stretcher. Homicide was nasty business, even if the actual death had been a suicide.

            Ah, suicide! Sweet relief for the life-weary! But, she reminded herself, only for the bravest. _And you are not brave, are you, Megumi_? her inner voice sneered. She brushed it off. It was her duty to live, and death was not her privilege.

            "Takani-san?"

            Megumi looked down at the sound of Aoshi's voice and realized she was still holding his head. "Gomen nasai," she said, and quickly moved on to the girl in his arms. The man unsettled her, for some reason.

            She appeared to be unhurt, though covered in blood and filth. Nothing a good bath wouldn't cure. She tried to move her. Aoshi's grip tightened around her shoulders.

            "She's fine," he said emotionlessly.

            Megumi drew back. "Suit yourself." She made her way over to Tokio, who was without seeming to watching Saitou, Kondou, and Hijikata.

            "Tokio-san, is there anything else I can do?"

            Tokio smiled wearily at her. "No, get some rest if you want."

            "I would prefer to begin the autopsy now," she said, wanting to get the unpleasant business over with.

            "That would be fine, Megumi-san."

            "Thank you, Tokio-san, but you should get some rest also; you look like you need it."

            The woman laughed dryly. "I suppose I look a nightmare. All-nighters do that to you, sometimes. Thank you, Megumi-san. My work's almost done here."

**Sucky way to end a chapter, I know. But I thought it was getting too long and boring. We don't want bored readers, do we, precious? I will address any complaints about OOCness for this chapter, 'cause they're probably well-founded. Before you throw me in a shallow ditch in a side of the road for Misao's character, remember that she's under a lot of stress (especially as this all happened in one night) and has lived a very sheltered life so she's not been exposed to violence before. And I will say that Megumi and Sano's characters are very difficult for me to write. **

**Seppuku: I will explain this for all of you that don't know what it is. It is the ritual suicide of samurai, and a tradition that dates back to the feudal era. (They don't still do this…) It literally means, "split the belly" or something along those lines. The samurai uses his wakizashi to spill his guts out. As you might imagine, this is very painful, and to save a man the shame of showing pain, there is commonly another samurai to act as a 'second.' The second decapitates the samurai as soon as the cut is made, and thus honor is preserved. The entire purpose of seppuku is to regain honor. Women samurai could commit seppuku as well, but they did this by slitting their throats. **

**Thank you:**

**spirit**** demon**

**weasel1029**

**len******

**prexus******

**Digital Siren**

**Darkmoon0829**

**indigochipmunk******


	6. Chapter 6

** Shadow's Assassin: I've noticed that my constant switching of scenes is strongly reminiscent of a soap opera. sweatdrop I'll try not to… but it's hard, neh? Ah well, rambling is kinda boring, so… onward!**

**Disclaimer: Standard applies. **

**"Tell me your secrets/**

**And ask me your questions/**

**Oh let's go back to the start/**

**Running in circles/**

**Coming up tails/**

**Heads on a silence apart/"**

**                                    Coldplay, "The Scientist"**

            When Misao woke again, several hours later, her head throbbed painfully and she at first couldn't remember where she was. The events of the previous night filtered slowly back into her memory, filling her with sickness and deep shame of her actions.

            A wave of nausea threatened to overcome her, so she rushed to the bathroom and collapsed over the sink.

            Aoshi, in the kitchen, folded the laptop he was using when he heard Misao wake in the adjoining room. The bathroom door was ajar, and he could tell she was inside, being sick, he surmised. Not surprising, considering the shock of last night. She would wish to be left alone. He moved to leave, but he heard soft sobs sounding within. He hesitated, then pushed open the door and stepped onto the tile.

            A few strides carried him to her side, but she wasn't yet aware of his presence. He carefully gathered up the dark strands that had fallen loose from her braid to keep them away from her face. He wrapped his arm securely around her waist to hold her steady. She heaved as softly as she could as he stroked her hair.

            After a while, she quieted, and he released her and stepped back while she washed her face. When she finally turned to face him, her face was blotchy but improving. Fresh tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

            "Why are you being so nice to me, Aoshi-sama?" she asked quietly. She looked down and fiddled with the hem of her shirt and realized she hadn't been changed since last night. So it had been Aoshi who brought her home.

            "I'm not being 'nice,'" he replied in a monotone.

            "But you are!" she cried, grabbing his sleeve. He was beginning to recognize Misao was a very physical individual. "And I was so horrible to you," she whispered, her eyes lingering on his face. She reached up to touch him, but realized she needed to stand on tiptoes to do so. She motioned and he obediently lowered himself to the floor. The tile wasn't all that cold, he supposed. Misao knelt beside him.

            She traced her forefinger along a slight bruise on the side of his face, then along a superficial cut on the other, the only reminders of her earlier abuse.

            "I'm sorry."

            "There's no need."

            "No," she silenced him. "It's my fault. I… everything happened so fast… mother… and… Okita-san… I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and I apologize." The tears were flowing thickly again. 'And it's that time and I forgot to take the pill…'

            His hands moved in comforting circles across her back. "Don't apologize. I wasn't hurt."

            She peered at him; he was so stiff and unmoving - yet so warm at the same time. "Do you ever feel hurt?"

            "Of course."

            She had a feeling he didn't understand. "Ano… I meant… does your heart ever hurt?"

            His silence was answer enough.

            She stood and smiled at him nonetheless. "I'm going to take a bath now, Aoshi-sama. _Domo arigato_."

            Now even her smile carried a note of anxiety, he observed as he left her. Don't worry… Misao.

            Tokio-san –

I have completed the autopsy you requested. Attached are photographs of the body and a full description. Okita-san was shot multiple times: once in the left shoulder, once in the right shoulder, and once in the right forearm. Katana wounds across back and arms. Final death: ritual suicide (seppuku).

You may find it of interest to note that Okita-san was infected by an advanced mutation of tuberculosis for at least a year prior to death. Apparently went untreated. Doctor Takeda Kanryuu left no records.

                                                                        Takani Megumi

            After her private message to Tokio, Megumi sent a formal copy of her autopsy to the remaining 9 Squad Captains, Captain Kondou-sama and Vice-Captain Hijikata. They could later share it with whom they wished.

            Megumi thanked whatever gods might be listening that she had been given the remainder of the day off. She shut down her computer and locked her office.

            When she stepped gratefully into her welcoming apartment, all she could think of was a long, steamy bath followed by a dreamless sleep. _Dreamless._

            It seemed the idiot rooster head, Sanosuke, had other plans.

            "Oi, Kitsune-san!" he called from the kitchen.

            She dropped her purse in surprise. "Tori-atama? Is that you?" Her heels clicked rhythmically on the hardwood floor.

            He was slumped over the western-style kitchen table, grinning at her sheepishly. He looked utterly wasted, although in her experience, Sanosuke was never quite as drunk as he seemed.

            "I don't know if anyone's told you," Megumi began, "but you can't live your whole life on booze."

            "Says who?"

            She indicated her doctor's ID.

            "… I ate a sandwich…"

            "Freeloader."

            He chewed idly on a toothpick.

            "You look ridiculous with that thing in you mouth," the doctor snapped.

            He shrugged.

            She dropped gracefully into the chair opposite him. "Alright, I can see you're not in the mood to be baited. I'm not either. So let's be honest – why are you still here?"

            He moved to look her straight in the eyes, and she felt a chill race up her spine at the intensity behind the mild hazel.

            "I was worried," he said.

            "About me?" Megumi scoffed. "I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself, rooster-head."

            "I know." His voice was suddenly husky. With surprising speed, he was behind her, his hands warm on her tense shoulders. "But I worried anyway."

            "Sanosuke! Are you drunk?!"

            He nuzzled beneath her ear. "Not a bit."     

Megumi shivered. Why did she suddenly think her bath wouldn't be so relaxing after all?

            Aoshi's orders hadn't changed since he last checked, about two days ago, except for one thing: should he happen to see Takeda Kanryuu, former doctor for the Shinsengumi, he was to capture him, preferably alive. Aoshi filed the order away in one of the neat little chambers of his mind. Takeda Kanryuu. Aoshi remembered him as a sharp, pointy man with impossibly angled eyebrows, none too attractive, who seemed to get some kind of perverse pleasure out of strapping him down to the examination table.

            It was at times like those, if Aoshi had been capable of feelings, he might have wished he wasn't so intuitive.

            Misao touched his shoulder gently. "Aoshi-sama? Can I talk to you?"

            "Aa."

            "Thank you." She sat down opposite to him, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a tee-shirt. Her hair hung unbraided down to her thighs. "I just want to say again that I'm sorry for what happened last night, and I want to prevent that from ever, ever happening again. But, even if I can't, I want to be of some use to you. It isn't fair for you to always be protecting me! Aoshi-sama, I want to learn how to fight."

            She'd reached this decision in the bath, with the steam swirling around her body as she reflected on the past night. She'd been totally incapable of coping with the scenario she found herself in. Unacceptable.

            His flat bluish green eyes searched hers, as if seeking the level of her commitment. She stared back defiantly.

            Misao already understood the fact she might be required to kill someone if she found herself armed in a real fight. She didn't want to, but circumstances required her to change. She felt strangely at peace with herself. Her old life was gone for good. 

             "There is an armory at the base we can look at, if you wish."

            She tugged on a stray lock of her hair. "Actually, Aoshi-sama, I was wondering if we could do this _without _Saitou-san knowing about it. It's just… he'll laugh…" she trailed off, her huge ocean blue eyes hopefully turning on him.

            "…"

            And so, Aoshi finally discovered the power of puppy eyes.

            There was something she loved about green tea, Kaoru thought, staring down into her cup. It was so warm, so soothing, and on the rare times she could sit down and really enjoy it, made her feel so much better. But somehow, it failed this time.

            Kenshin… was the legendary Battousai, a boogeyman mothers used to scare misbehaving children into obedience. _Go to sleep or I'll call Battousai! Eat your vegetables or Battousai will get you! _The feared assassin of shadows, was… Kenshin. Kenshin was the awkward guy who did her laundry, for God's sake! He cooked her dinner when she couldn't get takeout, for crying out loud! (Actually, that was probably a public service; Kaoru's cooking would bring the health officials down on their heads.)

            And yet, it all made sense. Strange people often came to visit him, people that had a mean look about them, and were almost certainly armed, but Kenshin was never hurt. And now she knew why Kondou-sama had asked for his help. Oh, yes, it all fit together so painfully well.  

            But Kaoru knew also that Kenshin was no manslayer. In deed, perhaps, but not in heart. He made that clear to her in the car when he had explained everything else. Kaoru sighed. Sometimes life was just so _wrong_, and not even green tea could make it right.

            In Kyoto, there is a decent, respectable section of the city where decent, respectable people live. In this decent, respectable section there is a decent, respectable block. On this decent, respectable block there is a decent, respectable apartment building. In this decent, respectable apartment building lived the decent, respectable Seta family, on floor number 13 in apartment number 666, the fourth door from the stairwell.

            The Seta's had lived here for as long as anyone could remember. Their decent, respectable neighbors knew them to be decent, respectable people. But the Seta's had a dirty little secret: they were all dead.

            Correction: Not _all _the Seta family was dead. Because the Seta family had more than one dirty little secret, and one dirty little secret's name happened to be Seta Soujiro.

            Not that any of the neighbors knew about Seta Soujiro, of course. If, sixteen years ago, there had been strange noises coming from the Seta apartment, people thought it best to leave matters be. For, while the Seta's were most certainly respectable people, they were not known to be especially friendly or forthcoming.

            Then, eight years ago, any noise had abruptly stopped, without explanation. Most of the old neighbors had by now moved on, and most of the new neighbors hadn't seen much of the Seta family anyway. In fact, none of the neighbors knew Seta Kana had died for over a year, well after Seta-san had remarried. Such a pity. What a nice lady.

            But Seta Soujiro was still very much alive, and currently was cheerfully watching the washing machine spin while munching on a donut. At first glance, he might have seemed like any normal sixteen-year-old, until one noticed the bandages and the sling, of course. At a closer glance, he seemed to be pretty badly injured, though it did nothing to affect his demeanor.

            After a while, a woman appeared in the doorway of the laundry room, dressed in a revealing, (though stylish) tank top and skirt. Her hair was a deep magenta, her eyes a pale, shifting color. Her name was Komagata Yumi, renowned actress and model. She addressed Soujiro in a sharp, motherly tone.

            He listened, then sighed and nodded happily as he replied. Yes, he would go back to bed; yes, the other night _had _been a strain and he was still healing, thank you, Yumi-san, for calling the school, goodnight.   

            She watched him leave with her hands on her hips, then stalked over to the laundry and pulled out what he'd been washing. Goodnight indeed, it's hardly the afternoon. Damn! How many times do you have to wash a uniform to get the bloodstains out? Why was _she_ doing this? Didn't they have servants for this sort of thing? Right now… ah, right now she could be in the strong arms of her lover, steaming in a hot spring, just the two of them - it would be so romantic; she hadn't seen him for so long, so long it burned…

            Back in his room, Seta Soujiro fingered a wakizashi in the drawer of his desk almost fondly, then replaced it, closed the blinds, and fell asleep. At least he didn't have to go to school for a while now…

            Tokio sent her thank-you message to Megumi, shut down her laptop, and buried her head in her hands. She didn't cry. Oh, no, she had already cried all the tears she had to give. Now, she simply succumbed to the defeat.

            After a while she stood up, straightened the pillows on the couch, and lit several candles on a mini-shrine to Okita. She bowed briefly; she uttered a small prayer. 'Perhaps it is for the best,' she thought grimly, 'After all, what hope was there for him in life?'

            "None," Saitou remarked, stripping off his jacket and gloves as he entered quietly through the door.

            Tokio spun around. "I wish you wouldn't do that," she said softly.

            "Hn." He reached for a cigarette.

            Tokio glared, then lowered her eyes, reminding herself it was a difficult time for all of them. She'd air out the flat later.

            "Kanryuu escaped," he growled.

            "So I surmised," she replied, setting the table. She knew full well how the bastard had managed to flee.

            "Do you care?"

            "We will find him someday. And when we do, he will wish he'd never been born a traitor."

            Chou the sword hunter owned a modest little shop in a shady part of town where the knowledgeable buyer might purchase anything for the right price. Naturally, the Shinsengumi held no affiliations with such a man. Officially, of course.

            Aoshi led Misao deftly through the back alleyways with the practiced ease of one acquainted with the area. She followed obediently, her head swiveling from side to side to keep up with the unfamiliar sensations of the district.

            She resisted the childish impulse to grasp his hand. Somehow she thought that action didn't fit under the bodyguard job description. And besides, maybe he was just a teeny bit annoyed at her earlier behavior…?

            Probably not.

            Chou was a lean man, probably in his late twenties, who had the appearance of a fruity leftover from the punk movement ten years ago.

            His shirt, modeled after traditional the traditional Japanese dress, was the color of a pomegranate and one sleeve was ripped off, revealing ragged edges of a deep purple undershirt. His spiky blonde hair, reminding Misao forcefully of an old-fashioned broom, was swept back by a grape-colored headband. His belt was a contrasting brown and wrapped several times around his waist. He was not visibly armed. When he spoke, Misao blinked at his heavy Kansai accent. (blinks but I think they speak that in Kyoto, too…?)

            Chou looked over his customers critically. Most of those he dealt with were the kind you wouldn't remember, the kind that liked to blend in to a crowd. Now, these two, these two made quite the pair. That man probably had half the women in Kyoto salivating after him. Actually, he kinda looked familiar…

            Now the girl, the girl he felt he had seen somewhere, but he couldn't imagine why. She looked like she belonged waitressing in some suburban café. Or perhaps in a pet shop that kept weasels.

              "…eh?" Chou snapped to attention. The man had been speaking.

            Not looking the least bit ruffled, the man repeated his request. "Two sets of kunai. The best in your stock, if it is not too much trouble."

            Chou arched a dark eyebrow. "Kunai, eh? What are you, a ninja? I shoulda thought a guy like you 'twould go for the big ones." He patted the desk, where katana lay gleaming in neat lines.

            The girl twitched. Why was she always overlooked?!

            "_Iie. Kunai, onegai_," the man said politely but firmly.

            Ah! Now he recognized the man – Shinomori Aoshi – one of those Shinsengumi bastards. Now… what were they doing here?

            His eyes fell on the girl. Place her, place her… this could be important!   

            "_Hai, hai, Shinomori-han_," he said aloud. The girl turned and whispered something to the man. He raised an eyebrow thinly. She huffed slightly.

            Eureka! Chou could have stripped and danced naked on the sidewalks in celebration of his discovery. But he kept his composure, to the everlasting gratitude of the entire world. (Except for Chou fangirls… are there any?)

            Makimachi Misao!

            "I'll be right back, if y'all will please wait right here," Chou called, fighting to keep the glee out of his voice as he backed into his office and pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

            "Boss… this is Chou…. yeah, that's right… listen… I've got Makimachi right here! …. Wait? What for? I can take her now!..... Yes, Shinomori's with her… I…" he stopped as cold metal tickled his throat.

            "Care to repeat that?" Aoshi's voice was flat and deep. 

**SA: Whew, that was an exhausting chapter to write, minna-san! Gomen nasai, I didn't mean to let it run that long. sweatdrop There probably won't be another update till the beginning of July… unfortunately minor things like exams and finals are consuming my free time at the present moment. After that, I will be on vacation, so sorry. **

**And I am currently feeding an unhealthy obsession with Miroku from InuYasha! Woo-hoo! New episodes! (Yeah, yeah – I know I'm in the wrong fan base here!) I wish I could get DVD's with subtitles for all my favorite anime. I finally got to watch a subtitled version the other weekend, and it is sooo much better than dubs. **

**On a saner note… Review Replies! I love you all! **

**prexus: It is if you meant 'good luck' I think… or maybe that's ganbatte…(My Japanese is steadily improving, but it still sucks.) Domo arigato! **

**Digital Siren: is crying because of your lovely review Eeee, I'm so happy other people are catching on to my mood! Thank you!**

**Engel Star 13: Yay! New reviewer! I'll try as soon as I get a spare moment in my hands. **

**Weasel1029: I hope you like this one too! Slightly different mood and all, hopefully not too boring. cheesy grin **


	7. Chapter 7

****

SA: Woo-hoo. Another chapter, aren't you all happy? Exams and school are over, may the world rejoice.

Disclaimer: -- No I don't own it. Ya ken?

Nobody said it was easy/  
Oh it's such a shame for us to part/  
Nobody said it was easy/  
No one ever said it would be this hard/  
Oh take me back to the start/

** Coldplay** **"The Scientist"**

(Makimachi Mansion in Tokyo)

Omasu cursed lightly to herself, rifling through the neat piles of papers stacked on the late Makimachi-sama's desk. Knowing her former leader as she did, Omasu guessed what she was looking for wouldn't be there. But then… where could they be? Omasu faintly heard Okon shuffling around in the next room, her steps as quiet as a ninja's should be.

The onmitsu ran her hands lightly over the panels of the expensive mahogany desk and contained her gasp of surprise when her finger touched a trigger and a hidden drawer sprang out. Omasu grinned. She knew instinctively they would be in here, and the woman had learned long ago that she needed to trust her instincts. Only problem was, the drawer was empty.

(Chou's Shop)

"Care to repeat that?" Aoshi's voice was flat and deep.

Flattened against the wall outside the office door, Misao sucked in a tiny gasp. Chou was in league with Shishio! And he… oh no! Now that…that bastard knew they were here!

Although Aoshi had firmly told her _not_ to look and to stay _out_ of the way and _out _of sight, Misao's natural curiosity overcame her caution. She crouched and inched carefully below the smoked glass to the door, where she sat gathering her nerves and wits from where they lay in scattered pieces on the floor. She peeked around. Aoshi had Chou at swordpoint.

She ducked back. It looked like her guardian had the situation under control. Suddenly the muffled sounds of a scuffle reached her ears, and Misao stiffened and looked again. Several more men, who had obviously been waiting for a situation like this in another back room, had joined the conflict and forced Aoshi to relinquish his hold on Chou.

Misao gritted her teeth – six against one wasn't fair odds. As she watched, one of the masked men came behind Aoshi with a knife raised. The girl reacted entirely without thinking.

Aoshi was busy with Chou and two of his darkly dressed assistants when he sensed another presence behind him. The ninja spun, only to discover the man writhing on the ground, a kunai thrust through his gut, dark blood pooling sluggishly around him.

Misao's jaw was slack as she stood in the doorway clutching the set of throwing knives. _I killed him. I killed him. Oh, God! I killed a man!_

By that time, the remaining four had begun advancing upon her, leaving Chou to deal with Aoshi. Misao began to faintly panic. She had no idea how to fight – she hadn't beaten anyone up since a boy groped her in junior high! The knife throw had merely been luck coupled with her natural good aim.

She gripped a kunai in each hand, sinking automatically into a stance she'd seen Jiya take once while training. It suddenly occurred to Misao that every member of both her real family and the people that raised her like family knew martial arts. Everyone except her, of course. Suddenly she wished she'd pressed Shiro and Kuro into teaching her when she was younger – or Okon, or Omasu, or even Jiya!

But it was no use to her now. She drew her brows into what she hoped was an intimidating expression as they came at her.

Chou was an expert swordsman – Aoshi had expected no less. But he wasn't the best, oh, no, Aoshi had sparred against better. Saitou, Okita, Himura, Hijikata, and Kondou, to name a few.

Their blades flickered around each other in an intricate pattern of offense and defense, slash and parry. Both combatants were both acutely aware of and distinctly separate from the world outside their tiny battleground. Sometime along the way a window had shattered; shards of glass were scattered beneath their feet.

Chou wore a look of intense concentration, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and traces of emotion occasionally flitted across his face as the tides of battle turned. Aoshi, in contrast, had in place his stoic mask, which he did not break, even as the tip of Chou's katana pierced the skin of his arm.

Aoshi retaliated with a kenpo kick to Chou's chest that sent the other fighter flying backwards, temporarily robbed of breath. As Chou the Sword Hunter (I used to know what this was in Japanese, but I forgot) struggled to his feet, Aoshi reset his original stance in quiet waiting.

Chou readied himself once more and he sensed the subtle change in his opponent almost immediately. He wondered briefly what caused it, but the answer hit him like thunder as Aoshi slipped into movement.

The Kaiten Kenbu.

Misao yelled and flailed about wildly, sending her limbs flying in every direction in a desperate attempt to fend off her assailants. Her lungs burned; she felt like the time she'd nearly drowned at seven.

"Aoshi-sama!" she screamed through the flurry of knives and fists and feet. One of the men guffawed. Her next kick connected with his jaw and his head snapped back with a sickening crack that jolted Misao's spine. _Again! Why is this _happening _to me? I don't want to kill anyone! No! Aoshi-sama! _The mental screaming roared in her ears and blasted on like a broken record.

Aoshi didn't hear.

The Kaiten Kenbu was everything the rumors had suggested and more. It was impossible to follow, the slow and flowing movements of Aoshi's body as baffling as the progress of a river. Slow… now faster… slower… or was it faster?

Chou stood absolutely still, the beads of sweat from before now rivulets between his eyes. He gave up on trying to understand and predict Aoshi's sword-dance, and was now simply hoping to avoid the end. He had only two katana left on his person – the one in his hand and the one he didn't want to use if he didn't have to. It was his secret weapon and last resort. It was the type of weapon that worked best if your opponent wasn't expecting it.

Aoshi was finished toying now. Chou was once again sent flying back into the wall, this time lacking both breath and a significant amount of blood. His katana went spinning across the floor.

Aoshi turned in time to hear Misao shriek his name. Another man was dead at her feet, most likely of a broken neck. Two of the remaining three now palmed knives, and one had picked up a katana that somehow had not been secured.

He was charging at her now, and from the looks of things she would not notice him in time to successfully dodge.

Misao felt her body lifted and carried with the force of Aoshi's weight onto the cluttered desk in the corner. She barely had time to register the proximity of their bodies and the mingling of their blood and sweat before he was off again, trench coat swirling around his ankles, standing before her like a knight in shining armor.

The three were dead before they could blink. Aoshi turned and helped her sit up.

"_Domo arigato, _Aoshi-sama - "

He cut her off. "This time, _stay here."_

She bit her lip and studied the floor. "_Gomen nasai," _she said quietly.

The razor-sharp blade of Chou's 'secret weapon' cut the air between them with a loud snap.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. So _that _was why Aoshi-sama had been so brisk with her! She turned her eyes to the ongoing battle. Chou was obviously weakened significantly by Aoshi's Kaiten Kenbu, but was still fighting gamely with that freaky whip-like sword of his. On closer inspection, she realized it was actually his belt. She smiled faintly. Ingenious.

Only, Aoshi was still so much better. Within six minutes of hard fighting, Chou was on his knees, Aoshi's kodachi pressed against his throat again.

"You are going to come with us, and you are going to act natural. We don't need you. Any false move on your part and you are a dead man. Misao," he turned to her, "here." He tossed her two sets of shining new kunai. The ones she'd used in the fight were left where they were. "I knew they were right for you."

That – just then – was that the primitive predecessor of a smile? Misao wondered to herself incredulously as she numbly followed Aoshi and Chou out of the ruined building.

She didn't realize she was lagging until Aoshi called to her, "Makimachi-san! Hurry, before the police show up."

(Shinsengumi Headquarters)

Saitou chewed them out, as was expected. They had gone behind his back; they were his responsibility, yadda, yadda, yadda. Misao listlessly tuned him out; Aoshi took it like a man. It was, of course, his fault.

But then, he said, it wasn't a complete fiasco. Chou's capture was a major step in Shishio's apprehension. He was apparently a member of the Juppongatana, Shishio's legendary band of blood-thirsty followers – the strongest and most loyal of them all. Even though Chou stood on the bottom rung, he still had valuable information that the Shinsengumi certainly could use.

Misao slowly began to pay attention. Was the cranky old bastard actually giving off a slight aura of _praise_? Jeez! Now the sky will fall and pigs will sprout wings, she thought sarcastically.

"Before you go," Saitou called after them, "get your wounds patched up by Dr. Takani."

Tokio, who happened to be sitting at the desk again, smiled at the pair as they left the office. Misao eyed her in passing. She was beginning to wonder exactly what job the woman held in the close-knit and close-mouthed community of the Shinsengumi.

Takani Megumi, unfortunately, was not in her office yet due to a miscommunication.

(That Morning – Megumi's Apartment)

By the time Megumi woke from the deepest sleep she'd had in years, sunlight was streaming through the half-open blinds, illuminating a scene she half-wished she would never have to face. Clothes were scattered haphazardly across the room, the sheets were a mess, and lying next to her, breathing deeply with his arm slung casually around her waist, was none other than Sagara Sanosuke.

She sighed deeply as she estranged herself from his limbs – carefully, without waking him – and reached for her robe through still-blurry vision. She turned back, letting her fingers stroke his (surprisingly) soft, spiky, chestnut hair. She kissed him gently on the cheek, muttering, "Sleep well," before climbing from the mattress and heading to the shower. Somehow, she never did get that bath yesterday.

(The Aoiya)

"Do you still want to learn how to fight?" Aoshi asked Misao.

She didn't look up from the table where they sat. "I killed them, Aoshi-sama."

"Aa," he said, uncertain of what she wanted from him.

"And if I learn how to fight, I will kill more."

"Aa," Aoshi had absolutely no idea where this conversation was going.

"But I think I will have to anyway. I like you, Aoshi-sama, but I don't want to have to rely on you all the time! If there's one thing I learned from my mother," she added softly, "then it was that a woman has to know how to take care of herself, because at some point in her life, she will be alone."

Somehow, an unfamiliar sentiment akin to pride tingled in the back of Aoshi's mind. He guessed appearances really were deceiving – who would have thought upon meeting her that the skinny little weasel girl had it in her? Aloud, he replied, "I know someone who can teach you the basics."

(Kamiya Apartment Building)

The door swung open to reveal Sanosuke, his brooding expression a stark contrast from his unusually neat appearance. He was freshly showered, his hair combed and his clothes washed.

Kaoru glowered at him as she raised a wooden spoon menacingly. "Sanosuke! Where have you been all this time?! We've been worried!"

He stood in the hallway and spread his hands disarmingly. "Relax, Jou-chan, I was at the kitsune's."

Kaoru did relax slightly, seeing that the rough street fighter was (relatively) unharmed, except for some scratches and bandaged knuckles. "Mooching off someone else, were you?"

His expression shifted from brooding to slightly depressed. "Yeah."

Kenshin, suddenly appearing over Kaoru's shoulder, snapped his clear purple eyes to meet Sanosuke's. Though the red-haired ex-Battousai said nothing, Sanosuke felt as though Kenshin probably knew all of his thoughts at the moment. The street fighter tore his eyes away, not ready for that particular challenge.

So what if he had feelings for the fox lady? So what if Kenshin and Kaoru, and probably the rest of the entire world, knew it? She certainly didn't return them. A one night stand, made possible by improbable circumstances and stress. She probably wasn't even thinking clearly when she accepted his advances. It wouldn't happen again, he knew that when he woke and she wasn't there.

"Sanosuke? Are you feeling all right?" Kaoru asked gently.

"Yeah. I'm fine." A thought occurred to him and he turned a sheepish grin in his landlady's direction. "Do you guys have any food I could uh, borrow?"

"Sanosuke! Are you trying to tell me you _still _don't have any food of your own?! And what about that rent you _said _you would pay me by this month?"

"Easy, Jou-chan, I'll give it to you next time! I promise!"

Kaoru sighed. Why did she suspect she would never get the money from Sanosuke? If they weren't old friends… The Shinsengumi rookie mentally massaged her temples. She was far too soft hearted – but she really had to make ends meet somehow. She only had two boarders and one was really a freeloader. Her job at the Shinsengumi didn't pay much yet, and it probably wouldn't for at least five years. Kendo instructing in the basement of her building hadn't panned out. Her only student was her little brother, Yahiko. _He _most certainly didn't pay her.

"Come on in," she said, defeated. "Kenshin's cooking tonight." _I will never be assertive enough to get what I really want. _Short-tempered? Yes. Cranky? Yes. Scary? Most definitely. But nothing ever got done, and she never had any money.

Yahiko emerged from his bedroom at Kenshin's call for dinner. He saw Sanosuke and immediately latched onto the older man's head.

"What's the big idea, kid?"

"Don't you have anywhere else to go, rooster-head?" Yahiko growled as twelve-year-olds tend to do.

"No."

"Why don't you get a real job, ya bum?"

"Yahiko!" Kaoru snapped. "Don't be so rude!"

The table tensed. Yahiko glared at his surrogate sister/mother/teacher and decided to open his mouth again. "You can't tell me what to do, ugly! You're not my mother!" He stormed off again, without touching or looking at his food. There was a collective sigh from the adults still gathered around the tiny kitchen table.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with him," Kaoru groaned miserably. Inwardly she was hurt. Who had cared for him all these years? And he still didn't appreciate her.

Kenshin patted her back awkwardly. "All kids go through a stage like this. I'm sure he'll outgrow it."

"Yeah…"

Sanosuke ran a hand through his hair. "I should go…"

"Don't even think about it, Sanosuke!" Kaoru said sharply.

"Jeez, alright, I won't."

A businesslike knock sounded at the door of the small apartment.

Kaoru stood slowly. "Who would be coming around here…?" As a precaution, she flung the door open quickly and stepped to the inside, weapons at the ready.

"Kamiya-san?"

She cautiously peeked at her guest. Tall… trench coat… dark hair… Eep! "Shinomori-san? What can I do for you? Would you like to come in? I'm sorry it's not much we're just having dinner, heh… heh…"

She noticed for the first time the smallish girl trailing after Shinomori. Despite her size, she looked somehow… fierce.

"Oh! I'm sorry! You must think I'm so rude! My name is Kamiya Kaoru!"

Misao, taking a liking to the older girl, held out her hand. "Makimachi Misao," she said proudly.

"Makimachi? _The _Makimachi?" Kaoru's eyes widened suddenly. She mentally slapped herself. Of course! This was Shinomori-san's charge! Makimachi Misao! Oh, great, Shinomori–san's going to think I'm stupid and tell someone and I'll lose my job… oh no oh no… And… it just clicked that she was one of the famous Makimachi's, an extraordinarily rich business family and (known to only the select few that dealt in this kind of information) the leaders of the elite and super-secret onmitsu clan, the Oniwabanshuu.

"Yeah," Misao said, rubbing the back of her head, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, I'm so sorry; I really am terribly rude…"

They had reached the kitchen.

"Himura-san," Aoshi acknowledged the red-haired man seated at the table.

"Shinomori-san," Kenshin smiled secretly.

"And…?"

"Sagara Sanosuke," the spiky-haired fighter said gruffly.

Aoshi nodded.

Kenshin sighed comically. "Sano, this… is Shinomori Aoshi." He turned to Aoshi. "He's not with _them, _if that's what you're worried about. I would trust him with my life."  
Aoshi nodded, again, slightly. "Very well then. Kamiya-san, I came here to ask if you would be willing to take on a student?"

Kaoru paused as she was setting the tea. "Ah… well, yes, I would, if one came by." She answered, not completely able to mask her surprise.

"I would like you to please teach me how to fight," Misao spoke up boldly.

Kaoru furrowed her brows again. "I would be happy to… Although, I'm surprised you don't know how already."

"Why is that?" Misao asked innocently.

"You're a Makimachi – your family's led the Oniwabanshuu for the last two hundred years, haven't they?"

Somewhere in the recesses of the tiny apartment, a pin dropped audibly. Misao was the first to speak. "_What?_"

SA: I seem to write longer chapters every time, don't I? Took me a long time to write this one, though. sighs I really am a melodramatic person, aren't I? I apologize for any OOC behavior here; trying my best. I hope this isn't too boring…

Review Responses:

Prexus: Nope! Not a word of Chinese! ;;

Misao Mei Mei: I would be _honored_ to submit this story to your archive! I checked it out and it seems pretty high-caliber, so I'm gonna finish the brushed-up version Domo arigato!

Why? What? Shutup: Heehee! That makes us opposites. I had an obsession with Sesshoumaru until I saw Miroku! I still really like Sesshoumaru… I have a weakness for dark-haired guys.

silvermuse89: I know! I hated to do it, I really did. I love Okita as well. It's really cool that you also watched GATTACA, it's an awesome movie, especially if you're into genetics. Can't promise a heck of a lot of KK, but there's definitely more AM coming soon.

len: Thanks for the good luck – that and my mad studying actually paid off, and I get to advance to sophomore year. Oh, Aoshi my dear, yes, the poor guys gonna start experiencing some unfamiliar "feelings."

NARGIEGIRL21: Thank you, I have a rather interesting but strange mind, or so I'm told – or was it that I'm just scary? Anyway, thanks a bunch for reviewing!

Cyjj: I love being interesting. Thank you! Thank you! Tohru expression here


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